Let My Love Open the Door
by trooper
Summary: Scott is awakened by Logan in the throes of a nightmare. **SLASH** and WIP.
1. Scott

Let My Love Open The Door I

*Scott*

I can hear him, his moans of despair and fear, thin ribbons of sound penetrating my sleep. Wolverine, Logan, having another nightmare. No one else seems to hear them. I'm half tempted to wake Jean up and get her to shake him out of it. She's the telepathic one, after all. She doesn't have to actually touch him to get him out of his nightmare, to bring him back. I don't want to do it, not after what happened to Marie. Unlike her, I won't survive Logan's cold, steely claws.

I get up anyway, I don't want to wake Jean. Actually, it's probably an issue of whether or not I want to act like a coward. I qiuetly get out of bed. I pad lightly to his room, and hesitantly, I open the door. "Here's goes nothin'." The door makes a whiny creak noise, just very lightly, and I open it slowly. I step in and shut the door behind me, why I shut it, I'm not too sure. 

Logan is twisting and turning, there is a light sheen of sweat gleaming on his bare chest. His bed sheets are tousled and awry, his pillow no longer on the bed. He is begging, now, whimpering. I wince at the sight, I don't know what or who drove him to this condition, but it must have been something so awful, something I could not even imagine. There are tears now, glittering like jewels over his tightly closed eyes. The sight is terribly upsetting, and I feel like I'm invading him somehow by watching, so I decide to wake him up.

"Logan..." I call his name tentatively. I still feel a charge of fear, like electricity running through me. He can still kill me. "Logan, wake up...it's Scott." He doesn't snap out of it, and I'm starting to worry. I can't move in any farther, he'll be able to reach me. "Logan, please wake up, come on..." I say it louder this time, but his melancholy cries of pain drown out my quiet demands. I can't think of anything else to do, so I pick up his discarded pillow, take a deep breath and throw it at him.

As I thought he might do, he awakens with a jolt, claws flashing out like lightning and he cuts the pillow to pieces. I stand stock still. I watch him as his angered gaze meets mine, still sort of hazy, not fully awake. His eyes are still glistening from the tears. I don't look away, I wait for him to regain his composure. His look turns to one of shock. "Scott..." He pauses for a moment. "Did I hurt you?" he asks quickly, with a flash of concern. He has not forgotten what happened to Marie. "Oh, no, I'm fine, I just heard you down the hall, and I thought I should wake you up...but, uh, your pillow has seen better days." He rubs his eyes, and looks confused, and I point to his pillow, rather, the shreds of his pillow on his bed. He looks down and laughs. "Oh, well, better the pillow, and not you, I guess. Wouldn't want your Professor on my ass, now would I?" He wipes at his eyes again, quickly, and coughs a little. "Well, you know, it's kind of hard to get any kind of sleep with your noise, Wolverine." I chide myself for the sarcasm, but Logan just smirks, and throws it right back. "Sorry to cut in on your beauty sleep, Pretty Boy. I'll be careful next time." I snort, and turn to leave, but something stops me. I think it was curiosity. I don't know. "Logan, are you okay? Do you, um, need anything?" He stares at me incredulously for what seems like ages. "Not from you." I take the hint and leave. I go back to bed, but I can't sleep, so I just stare out my window, wondering about Logan, till I do finally drift off.


	2. Logan

Let My Love Open The Door II

*Logan*

All I can do is lie awake. I couldn't sleep, even if I wanted to. These nightmares, I can't take them for much longer. They have been getting progressively worse; the shudders wrack at my body and I am paralyzed in my own sickening hell. It's agony. But last night, last night was different. I can't remember very clearly, but I'm sure I saw him. I know he was there, right in the middle of my storm. I thought I heard him call me softly, timid-like. I remember seeing him, his silhouetted form standing warily by my door, questioning in his voice. I couldn't see it in his eyes, I couldn't read them. All I could see of those were the red glints of his goggles. Damn those things anyway. 

And then he asked me, he asked me if I needed help; if I needed anything…didn't he? I couldn't believe it, I still don't. I mean, this is Summers I'm talking about here. Smart ass, One-Eyed prick. Asking me if I'm okay. Sounding…compassionate?

The lilt of his voice when he asked, that is the one clear thing; the white hot point of clarity. I've memorized it, put it away only for me. It made a twang at the pit of my stomach. I rapidly searched for words before I completely gave away my disbelief.

"Not from you."

I wanted to take it back as soon as I had said it. So fucking stupid, but I guess old habits die hard. Sure, I hate the kid. I hate the way he tries to order me around, I hate the way he gets up in my face, and I _really_ hate the way he smirks at me. He's so fucking cocky, I want to fucking hit him, or shove into him or…Then sometimes, sometimes he looks so small and vulnerable, I want to take him in my arms. I can't _believe_ what I'm thinking. It can't be fucking right. I can't decide if I want to slash that smug grin off his face, or if I want to kiss it off. 

But now he's changed the rules. It used to be rage, jealousy, anger on the verge of…something. That's gone now, replaced. It even smells different, he fucking smells different now. Where there used to be threats and insults, there is…silence. It is so thick it chokes me, and what really scares me is that it can't stay this way forever, something's gonna give. Any fucking minute now…and will it be me?


End file.
